Sweet Silent Sea-Waves Lapping By The Rocks - Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Nature, the tricky one Left the door ajar half-open half-closedAnd none of them - yet leaving things in the middle: And heAnd hePonderingPondering as not be foolishSaid to himselfThere’s danger if I open the door too muchI do not know what I will let in: YetYetThe option beckoned: either close or open to full: So he pondered againThis time being quicker, rasherDecided for the line of least resistanceFor the prudent pathFear, tall impudent fearStood by him like a dubious angelHis counsel was not lost – it moved himAnd soHe closed the door thinking he saidAnd making sure against ‘the unforseen’.

Courage had stood by himBut Fear won him smiling greenInto the face of CourageAnother soul was won to Fear Another to Courage lost:

Then Courage went away bashfully.

Fear sate him invisible by and by to watch.

So the drama quick unfolded:

And he sankHe could not walk on waterBecause Fear had won himBecause Courage had lost him: And soAnd soHe sate on a safe rockAnd put his feet into the water like a childTo feel the cool sweet water rushAnd press with sweetness round his anklesBut Fear, yellow fear won! For even here: The sands started to‘Twas a slippery bank, a bank of treacheryAnd treacherous the sand sankAnd fast the sandSank like down the time-glass.

And Fear seizing himHe was un resourceful to the fullHis mind Fear had made blankIt was blank – worseThan if Morpheus on touching itHad exceeded his dose of opiate sleep; He saw nothingExcept him sinkAnd sink: And all around him crushAnd all around him go: And yetHe felt a pleasure in the ruinA sweetness new not felt beforeHe felt:

In sinking.

And so sinkingHe still heardThe music of pleasantnessRing in his earsThe sea was calm and wave-lessSo no current churnedAnd linear and tall He went down to the floorThe walls of water around him ragedThe walls of water around him pressedLike flames of wrathLike flames of ruin Nero-likeWhen Nero burned his RomeAnd staring stoodStringing here and there a noteOn his large funereal harp

And soHe touched the floor of the salt seaDeep in and smiling in his ruinAt least pain had flown awayFear had granted in recompenseA painless sinking:

And as he fellHis eyes were open yet closedAnd heCould not recriminate himselfAs to whyHe simply could not open the door - it was so easySo imperative: Yet so he did not and he sank.

And thus engrossedHe thought himself aloneIf he could think: And could not seeA case like his a-sinking to the floorAnother coward Fear his victim made